


February 2009 Ficbits

by Merfilly



Category: DCU (Comics), Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Dark, Fluff, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory Negotiations, Request Meme, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-28
Updated: 2009-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-13 08:22:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1219279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Name says it all</p>
            </blockquote>





	February 2009 Ficbits

With the most recent Crisis out of the way, and everyone in full recovery mode, Black Canary scheduled herself a few days off. As a pointed reminder that she was OFF, she left the gavel in its place, and her comm gear in a case beside it.

Oliver found himself being whisked away from his life in Star City to a beach in a country he couldn't pronounce, let alone know exactly where it was. With no one in sight, and so few inhibitions between them, it wasn't long before the sun was pouring over them both, laughing and sporting in the water beside the white sands.

When the day grew too hot for even that, it didn't take much persuading for Ollie to agree that a large blanket in the shade of a thick copse of trees was the perfect place for a nap...whenever they decided they were sleepy enough.

* * *

The warmth of a kiss, the soft brush of lips, along her neck, was exhilarating in ways that combat never found. The following, more open kiss, with a tongue delving out to taste the salt of her skin elicited a low moan. She pressed back, her hardened leather bodice finding the ungiving armor of her lover, and that increased her own breathing.

A hand, the silver gleam of a wrist cuff reflecting light, slid along her stomach, up, catching the zipper there at the collar. A slow slide down, letting the cooler air in against hot skin, and the woman had to resist the urge to cry out in impatient frustration.

That hand slipped down, stroking over short curls, further, until a warrior's finger glided over sensitive flesh, and the cry was not held back this time. The other arm graced in those silver bracers came up, hand cupping an exposed breast, providing support as wicked fingers worked magic on their lover's body.

The one in leather all too quickly was seeing a multitude of colors, her breathing sharp and ragged, as she let out all her pent-up tension in the release of climax. She sagged back against the bright armor, hair draping over the shoulder of her lover, and a soft smile on her face.

"So good to me."

"You needed it." 

The smaller of the women turned, pressing a kiss to her lover's throat, before sliding a hand over hard armor, questioning with a small noise. The taller woman smiled and purred throatily, before drawing the smaller toward their bed for further lovings.

* * *

She never quite seemed to be able to stay away. If she got out, and Mistah J didn't, or she managed to stay on the lam when they caught him, Harley had one place she unerringly went to. 

One of these days, she might have to face the idea of both Mistah J and Red being unavailable, but so far, she'd lucked out. There'd even been a few times where she and Red stayed locked into Arkham while her Puddin' was on the loose.

Maybe it was a harsh dichotomy, and she was proud of herself for thinking of that word to describe it, that her life fell into one or the other's camp at all times.

Then again, dualism had been a favorite subject of hers, so was it any wonder she had a companion for both sides of her?

"Hey, Red! You home in here?" she asked after slipping past the guardian fly traps. "Figured I was in the neighborhood..."

It was a measure of who Harley was to come here, and for now, it suited her perfectly.

* * *

The young man was exhausted, terrified, and lost. He had wanted his child, and thanks to his best friend, he now had her. She was this tiny bundle of life, a miracle in the middle of a life that had seen more lows than highs. Or at least the kind of highs that were worth having, he told himself in a flatly honest way. 

The thought made him fearful all over again. What would he tell her when she was old enough to understand? How much of his past would he give her? For that matter, how was he going to explain her very existence?

The tiny beauty in his arms, drooling in her sleep, her soft red hair tickling his chest made a small cooing noise as she shifted and Roy glimpsed that peace in his angel, letting it fill him. 

They would make it, somehow. No matter his past troubles.

* * *

One screen gave clear footage of the latest capture by the Batman of one of Arkham's perennial attendants. The police gave their song and dance about how there was no such thing as a seven foot tall man bat preying on the insane and criminally minded of Gotham as Tetch was loaded into a van to be taken back to Arkham.

A frown crossed the face of the man working, noting one camera man had almost captured his presence, in a lengthy shadow. He would have to be more careful.

On other screens, case files were scrolling, details about crimes and perpetrators unfolding at a speed he could scan for refreshing his memory.

Carefully, he selected one, found the key details he needed, and sat back to plan, as the screen showed him his next case, carefully tending a small potted plant in her cell. 

A hero was only measured by their adversaries, and it was time to let Gotham remeasure her hero.

Not yet...three days. Then, when Poison Ivy escaped, the Batman would save them all again.

* * *

Tim had given his all to being Robin, to finding 'normal' again, after leaving the Titans. For a time, he thought he had found it. He was balancing life with the cape, and coming out mostly on top.

Batman died, and Tim realized everything he had built into his new reality was a lie. 

People died every day. People died from so many causes.

Tim knew this, statistically. Yet, in his own mind, he was seeing himself as a symptom of impending death. He held Dick, Alfred, Cass at arms' length, too bound up on a new death to do anything but.

He could not be the cause of death again. Which meant making them not love him anymore in his own mind.

His first step was ridding Gotham of Arkham.

From there... he would do whatever it took to stay at the top of their rogues' list, so they could not love him again.

* * *

It never stops to amaze Bruce, once he's aware of it, no longer fogged with the passion of the moment, just how easily he holds those wrists down. He is the one man on the planet that is most aware of the strength coursing through those muscles, and yet he holds the wrists locked in his merely human hands as they make love together.

Clark merely smiles when he sees Bruce staring at both their hands, knowing what has to be going through Bruce's mind.

"You are the stronger of us...because of what you keep doing, despite your human limitations."

* * *

It was Valentine's Day, and all of Gotham was well handled by Batman. New York was quieter this year than any holiday in the past. Dick was thanking his lucky stars that he might just be able to pull off a date, and headed for Kory's place.

Only to discover that his fair lady love was not in.

He decided that was fair enough as he had waited to literally last minute for trying to get a date.

It didn't hurt to give Babs a call...but her Dad said she was out with one of the guys on the force.

Dick was amused in some ways, and rather put out in others. Here he was, such a hottie according to all those teen mags, whether as Dick Grayson or Nightwing or back when he was Robin, and he didn't even have a date.

"No date?"

Dick looked up at Roy; where the hell had he come from?

"No; waited too long."

Roy snorted. "Was in town for a briefing. Off now...and no date, what with Donna all married and stuff."

Dick had to grin at that. "Want to patrol on the off chance..."

Roy's eyes sparkled, and he held up a bag. "Gear right here."

Ten minutes later, two best friends were enjoying the night of romance by keeping it safe and quiet, lost in the age old partnership that never faded for them.

* * *

He had learned.

He had learned not to give her flowers; she had run her own shop for too many years for them to appeal.

He had learned if he was going to buy candy, not to buy the really expensive stuff. She liked the Pot Of Gold variety just fine.

He had learned if he bought her jewelry that she preferred color to the bland presentation of diamonds. Those, she argued, should be strictly for wedding rings.

But the lesson Oliver Queen had learned the most was that Dinah loved him, as long as he didn't neglect her. That was why he kicked all the kids out of the house, threatened bodily harm if they showed up before dawn the next day, and made her a home cooked meal.

He might be slow sometimes, but he could learn.

* * *

"If you could have only one of these three things, which would you take: good health, riches, or love?"

The man lying on the couch quirked an eyebrow. "Funny you should ask that...I've been rich, had the best of health until a small problem with a plane, and had the love of the best woman in the world."

"Then the question should be simple; you've known all three conditions."

The patient shrugged his shoulders, and expressive rise that had his palms turn upwards too. "You're supposed to pick love. Because man is a social animal and needs companionship. Though if I chose good health, I'd be showing my ego off, putting myself ahead of it all. And choosing wealth is the sign of either greed or a person who thinks they can beat the system by having their cake and eating it too."

"Mister Queen...."

He shifted, putting his feet on the floor firmly, swinging his body around to look at her. "Fine...love, but of the kind that is family. With all the fights, tears, screams that go right along with the comforts, smiles, and laughs. That's my choice, and I'm sticking to it." He stood up. "And I don't need your services, ma'am. I can get pop psychology like that from my oldest boy; he's great for keeping me on my toes." With that, Oliver Queen walked right out of the court-ordered therapy session...and planned on calling Bruce for a better lawyer to handle his appeal.

`~`~`~`~`

"Bruce?"

"Oliver, I have a business meeting in five minutes."

"Yeah, just needed to ask if you had a good recommendation for an appeals lawyer."

"I assume you need it in response to the fact you publicly decked a reporter?"

There was a long silence, before Ollie sighed. "Yeah, Bruce."

Bruce smirked on his end. He had to admit it had looked really good, and he could imagine how it must have felt. God only knew how many times Bruce or Batman had wanted to get an obnoxious reporter right in the kisser with a solid right.

"I heard they gave you community service and anger management."

"I kind of blew off the second half of that."

Bruce kept the smile he felt out of his voice. Of course Oliver had failed to comply with therapy. The man had issues...but he knew them deep in his soul, and would resent someone else prying at them.

"I'll see what I can do, Oliver. Later. Right now, I have work." He hung up, and then gave into the smile. He wouldn't have Ollie any other way than the gut, visceral man he was.

* * *

She didn't know why she kept rising to his lines, or baiting him with her own. It was a damn dangerous course to take, and she knew he really was not the type of man she should be encouraging. Maybe it was just the rebound effect of her last relationship. Maybe she just needed to feel pampered and spoiled, something this man gave her in spades.

Dinah gave a single thought of the wrongness of seducing a man outside the community against the need thrumming in her veins to forget her Viking Prince...and then she went with the Count to his yacht, never suspecting the trap that had neatly been laid for her.

* * *

Pieter had enjoyed the date with Dinah immensely. She was so bright, so vivacious and alive! Her enthusiasm for life and their mission knew no end. 

Still, he found himself a little disconcerted by the idea of actually dating her more regularly. She had a long history with the senior team members, she was unlucky in love, or so they said, and she was...not everything he looked for. 

For intellectual stimulation, she was certainly not the best choice. Even though he could see the blonde act for what it was, her tastes in learning ran to the physical and mechanical. 

Pieter had plenty of the stimuli he desired from Michael, but could their ever be a way to have all he craved in just one person?

He never realized that Michael was maybe too smart for him...at least not until the night the man invited both he and Dinah over for a night of getting to know one another. 

After that night, Pieter realized sometimes two was not the optimum number after all.

* * *

"Sugah, y'all seen a man with shaggy hair and red eyes?"

Batman found himself studying a woman in a yellow and green costume, her brown hair broken by a striking white streak. 

"Has a tendency t' blow things up and hit people with a long stick?" she added.

"And you want this information for what purpose?" Batman asked her. Granted, there was a part of him that wanted to give up the information no matter what reason she gave; only that he hated feeling jealous kept him from doing so.

"Come t' take him home, Sugah. He's missed."

"I'm supposed to just believe any costumed individual with this person's safety?" //GOOD! Maybe Selina won't be quite so smug...// He buried that thought deeply.

"Would ah stop to ask the friendly neighborhood Bat if ah'd meant him harm? Ah did my homework good." She smiled. "Now ah know Gambit can be a prickly thing t' mess with, so can ah know where he's keeping himself to get home with him?"

Maybe it was jealousy, or maybe it was just that he wasn't as distrustful as he should have been, but Batman wound up leading her over into the East End to get rid of Selina's latest boy toy.

* * *


End file.
